Page 5 of Shadowed Witness (The Secrets of Kincaid #2)

Allye pulled down her visor to block the afternoon sunshine and tried to ignore the angry pulsing of yet another migraine on the short drive from the police station.

She’d taken more meds before hitching a ride with a neighbor to retrieve her car from the studio, but the prescription didn’t seem to do much anymore.

Something else she’d need to follow up with her doctor on.

She glanced in her rearview mirror to confirm Eric was still behind her.

A flash of pain reprimanded her for the unnecessary eye movement. This was getting old.

Before agreeing to take another look at the crime scene, Eric had taken photos of her neck. She really should have thought to do that last night. Having them documented right away might have even been worth the ER trip she’d refused. But she hadn’t thought of that. She sighed.

Eric had also taken the time to ask about the men—whether she’d seen them before and if she could identify them.

She’d only gotten a good look at the one who’d come after her.

He was a complete stranger to her. The man was muscular, but not in an attention-grabbing way.

Average height. Average weight. Her impression was that he was tanned and had short dark hair.

But the lighting had been horrible, the encounter short, and the terror .

.. She wasn’t na?ve enough to think that her memory couldn’t be slightly skewed.

But she would know him if she saw him again. She was sure of that.

But she was the only one who would. Her description hadn’t been helpful. Eric’s expression had remained impassive. They both knew those qualities could apply to any number of men. Maybe if she’d seen a tattoo or a scar. No such luck.

But his eyes. She shuddered. Felt her throat constrict. The look in those dark pools had haunted last night’s dreams. He’d fully intended to kill her. Why hadn’t he?

Hand shaking, she flipped her turn signal and pulled into a street-side parking spot in front of the building that housed her studio. A bump signaled she’d hit the curb again. She couldn’t bring herself to care.

She exited the car and joined Eric on the sidewalk. “This way.” She led him around the back of her building. “They were right about here.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.” Her heart sank. He didn’t believe her either. She tried not to show her disappointment. “There were three of them. The attacker and victim were here, and the other one was leaning against the wall there.” She pointed to the area a few feet away. “I didn’t imagine it.”

“Didn’t say you did. But according to Moore’s notes, Mayor Jennings reported that you said the attack occurred over there.” He thumbed over his shoulder, indicating the back parking lot of the office building next door.

“No, I walked over there to double-check, but they were definitely over here.”

He pulled something up on his phone. “It says that you told Jennings it happened behind the building to the right of the alley.” He looked up at her.

She tried to remember exactly what she’d told the mayor, but that part of last night’s events was blurry.

Her headache wasn’t helping. “I don’t remember what I told him, but .

.. I sometimes get my rights and lefts mixed up.

I could have said the wrong direction.” She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks at the admission.

Eric sighed and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “In that case, I can recheck for evidence, but there’s a good chance this morning’s rain washed things away already. I’ll need you out of the area. Waiting in your car would be best.”

Her shoulders drooped, and the pain in her head intensified. “I’m sorry. I should have just reported everything myself last night. If I’d been here, I could have cleared up the confusion.”

Eric’s expression didn’t change before she turned away, but when she glanced over her shoulder, he was already examining the area.

She retreated to her car and locked herself inside—something she wouldn’t normally bother to do in Kincaid.

But even in daylight and with Eric nearby, returning to the scene of last night’s incident was giving her the creeps.

She angled to peer over her shoulder. Fire shot from her neck to her elbow, and she quickly returned to her previous position.

Her muscles pulsed a reproach at her attempt to see down the alley.

A fruitless attempt, considering she had pulled her car too far forward anyway.

She leaned her head back and tried to ignore the pain.

Think of something else.

Last night. Evidence. Eric.

Although she couldn’t see him, she had every confidence he’d be thorough.

If there was evidence to find, he’d be the one to find it.

Moore was a decent cop and meant well, but he had a tendency to jump to conclusions, especially if they provided an easy answer.

Eric wasn’t like that. She could trust him.

Some of her anxiety ebbed, and despite her pounding head and complaining muscles, she found herself relaxing into her seat.

OTHER THAN AT THE FOOT OF ALLYE’S STEPS, the gravel in the relevant areas behind the building and in the alley was smooth.

A little too smooth. Almost as if someone had attempted to hide anything pointing to their presence.

But he’d combed the area where she claimed the victim had been lying, had even turned over some of the gravel to check for bloodstains or vomit. Nothing.

He’d found a curly red hair caught in a crevice of the rough brick. Not conclusive evidence that Allye had been shoved against the wall, but it supported her story. Of course, she could have merely brushed against the wall on her way to the parking lot at some point. He bagged it anyway.

He stepped back and surveyed the area. He hated to tell Allye that there was practically no evidence to back up her claims, but he wasn’t going to lie to her either.

He rubbed his forehead. This hadn’t been handled well at any point.

She should have made the report herself.

When she didn’t, Moore should have followed up with her last night.

The man knew better, but considering the mayor’s report, Eric could also see why he hadn’t bothered. Nothing he could do about it now.

The memory of Allye’s bruised neck and hoarse voice filled his mind, and he tightened his grip on his pen. Something had happened to her.

But her story didn’t make sense. The beating she claimed to have witnessed sounded like the murder she suspected.

But they had no body. Questions flew into his mind, one after another.

If a would-be murderer had caught Allye—choked her badly enough to leave those marks—why hadn’t he finished what he started?

Had the mayor interrupted him? But then, why not just leave her where she was?

Why take the time to move her to the foot of her stairs to make it appear as if she’d fallen?

Eric didn’t know what to think. Allye sounded so sure of what she’d seen, but if it weren’t for her injuries, he’d be inclined to side with Moore’s conclusion—she’d fallen and hit her head, and everything she thought she’d seen had been imagined.

But he couldn’t deny that those bruises were obvious strangle marks.

He’d seen enough of them to know. Didn’t mean she’d gotten them at the hands of an interrupted killer though.

He’d need to contact Mayor Jennings for clarity on his side of the story. Maybe he could provide some detail that would help reconcile all this.

Unfortunately, most of the businesses in this part of town followed regular office hours.

With Allye’s alleged encounter taking place a little after 7:00 p.m., the area would have been essentially deserted.

She was fortunate the mayor had been working late.

If it weren’t election season, he likely would have been gone too.

Which would have either left her dead at the hands of an unknown assailant ... or waking up alone with a probable concussion.

The mayor should have allowed her to file a report and then insisted she go to the hospital.

But Eric knew how stubborn Allye could be.

The fact she’d allowed the mayor to drive her home was a miracle.

Or a sign of how badly she’d been feeling.

The woman was all about taking care of others, but try to convince her she needed taking care of herself. ..

Steeling himself, he returned to the street side of the building and approached Allye’s car.

She had her head leaned back against the headrest. He tapped lightly on her window, and she startled, a slightly confused look in her eyes as she turned them on him.

She blinked, and the confusion cleared. She opened the door and joined him outside.

“Sorry. I must have dozed off.” She adjusted her glasses and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. Her fingers trembled slightly. “Did you find anything?”

“Nothing noteworthy.” He watched her carefully, but it didn’t take an expert to read Allye. Her face clearly broadcasted everything she thought. And right now, desperation and fear were vying for dominance.

She looked over his shoulder toward the alleyway. “I didn’t imagine this,” she said again, but her voice lacked its earlier conviction.

He let silence linger for a few seconds before asking, “Could the bruises on your neck have come from another source?”

“Mayor Jennings thinks maybe my purse strap yanked against it when I fell .” The emphasis she put on the last word was as clear as if she’d added finger quotes to it.

Eric shook his head. “Doubtful. The bruising would look very different. Those are strangulation marks.” Hope rose in her eyes.

He hated to squelch it, but he had to cover his bases, and since she wasn’t getting the hint, he was going to have to be direct.

“Has someone else hurt you? A boyfriend? Family member?”

Her mouth dropped open, but she didn’t break eye contact when she answered. “Absolutely not. You know my family would never do anything like that.”

He did—theoretically. He’d known them for a long time, and he and her brother had become good friends after Bryce’s return to Kincaid from active military service.

In Eric’s opinion, her family would be the least likely suspects in something like this.

But as an investigator, he’d had to ask. “What about a boyfriend?”

“I don’t have one.”

Good. Even as jaded as he was, the thought of Allye having an abusive boyfriend unsettled him.

But the denial brought them back to square one.

Someone had attempted to strangle her, and the only explanation she had was dubious at best. And while he only knew Allye to tell the truth—and to be terrible at hiding it on the rare occasions she tried to—she could still be protecting someone.

That scenario happened more often than most people liked to consider.

But if that was the case, there was little chance of determining the culprit without Allye’s cooperation.

He stifled a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ll file the report, but there’s not much I can do at this point.”

“Do you ... at least believe me?” Her voice was small.

“I believe something happened last night,” he said as gently as he could. “And like I said, I believe those are strangulation marks on your neck. But the evidence indicates you fell down the stairs and hit your head.”

She lowered her gaze, but not before he caught the sheen of tears. Great. Allye was the last person he wanted to make cry. But what could he say? He had to follow the evidence, which was severely lacking.

“Thanks for looking,” she mumbled as she climbed back into her car. She sat there for a minute, then pulled onto the road without her customary exuberant wave.

He watched as she drove away—the brightness of her cherry red Jetta a stark contrast to the slump of her shoulders. He hated seeing her disappointment, but he couldn’t lie to her. And there was little he could do without evidence to corroborate her story.

He put in a call to Mayor Jennings’s office and requested a callback to schedule an interview.

He owed Allye that much. But he couldn’t spend much more time on this.

There just wasn’t enough evidence to warrant it, and he had other cases that needed his attention. Cases like Ashley Harrison’s overdose.

He checked his phone. Nothing from Dion.

The teen’s absence was concerning. If he’d skipped school because he was sick, he should have been at home.

But he could be at a friend’s house. Overslept and decided not to show up late.

Played hooky for some other reason. Not ideal, but at least he’d be okay.

Eric couldn’t shake the feeling that wasn’t the case though. Dion might be mixing with a bad crowd, but he was a good kid, a fairly responsible one. At least, he had been.

He tried calling him again. No answer, so he returned to his car and called the school again.

Still no sign of him. Eric requested the names and numbers of his friends—especially any who had also missed school today—and was told they would get back to him.

He pocketed his phone and stared through the windshield.

He’d check with Dion’s friends. If he got nowhere, he’d return to the boy’s home and see if he showed up. But if they still knew nothing by nightfall, he’d be adding a missing person investigation to the top of his caseload.